


"Family" by Sam Winchester

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: "Family don't end with blood", Cute Sam, Family, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One-Shot, Wee!chesters, wee!Dean, wee!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 year old Sam draws a picture of his "family" for school; it falls to Bobby to talk him out of bringing it in.  One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Family" by Sam Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No characters or ideas from 'Supernatural' belong to me, nor am I making money from fangirling on ao3

        “What the ... ”

  
        Bobby Singer scratched his jaw and frowned at the weird drawings in front of him. Glancing between the Winchester boys – Dean pointedly reading his comic book and eating ice cream from the tub, and five-year-old Sam looking up at Bobby like a puppy dog – he hunkered down beside the younger kid and asked,

  
        “What is this, Sam?”

  
         Dean snorted and said, without taking his eyes off the comic strip, “He’s supposed to draw his family for school. I’ve _told_ him he can’t bring that in, Bobby, but he won't listen to me."

  
        Sammy pouted. Great, that was all Bobby needed – a crying kid on his hands. John Winchester really owed him for this babysitting routine he’d somehow been roped into ever since Mary died. If Dean wasn’t asking for cheeseburgers and volunteering his weapon-cleaning expertise (like Bobby was letting him anywhere  _near_  his guns), then his brother was drawing on the walls,  _reading_  anything he could get his hands on, and the both of them were child insomniacs. Not to mention the  _looks_ he got when he dropped them off to the local school in his truck. He sighed, shot Dean a warning look and turned back to Sam, saying as gently as he could:

  
        “Why don’t you tell me about your picture, Sam.” He jabbed a finger at the smallest stick figure and guessed, “That’s you, ain’t it?” Sam’s whole face lit up, and he leaned in, gripping Bobby’s arm with his tiny hand. Yeah, he was definitely some weird kind of uncle to these kids.

  
        “That’s me,” Sam agreed with pride, “and them's Daddy and Dean. His face is all funny ‘cause he’s got a funny face.” Bobby laughed then turned it into a rough cough as Dean looked up and downright glared at his brother. There was no denying it, that kid sure could pull some faces. As far as he could see, the stick-family wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, apart from the small matter of the  _shovel_  in John’s free hand. Maybe Sam’s elementary teacher wasn’t all that ready for this one. . . Bobby's eyes moved to the black box on wheels and he tried his best to inject a little praise into his voice -

  
        “That’ll be your daddy’s car? Well, it's real good, Sam.” Oh Lord, what in the hell was that? A cloud was hovering over the Impala, and on it was a neat little stick-woman, complete with wings and blonde hair.

  
        Dean said quietly, “He drew mom like an angel.” He didn’t sound too happy about it neither.

  
        Bobby grunted his agreement, wondering how many kids had to draw their parents as angels. Probably too many. "Well,” he said slowly,  _what do you say to that?_  “I don’t know much about angels, but that’s a beautiful drawing of your mother, boy.”  _Real smooth, Bobby._  “But who are these little floating people at the top?”

  
        Dean surprised him by coming out of his sulk and starting to laugh so hard he spilled ice-cream on himself. Sam's voice in his ear said patiently,

  
        “They’re not floating, Bobby, they’re just far away. My teacher said when you draw stuff far away, you gotta make it little.”

  
        “Hey, Bobby,” Dean chuckled, “How d’you like little floating you?”

  
        Bobby squinted at the one wearing a cap, then asked in surpise, “ _Am I holding a beer?_ ” Sam gave him another huge smile and nodded. Great. The school was going to love this. His far-away friend seemed to be waving some kind of cross about - “That’s Jim Murphy, huh? What do you know, looks just like him.” Pastor Jim was hanging around just under the tiny writing that said:  _"Family" by Sam Winchester, 10/5/1987._  Bobby could feel Dean watching him, waiting for him to tell this little kid that he couldn’t bring his picture to school. When he thought about Sam taking the time to colour everything inside the lines and put the registration number on the damned Impala, it seemed like an awful lot to ask.

  
        Well, he'd been up against much worse in his time, and this was one weird-ass drawing.

  
        “You know, Sam," Bobby began, and Dean focused his attention on the comic again, giving them some pretend space. "This is a great picture – I'll be damned if I could do better myself. But your brother ain’t wrong. Now, I know me and Jim look out for you boys when your daddy’s ... working, but I don’t think we have any right to be in your picture. What do you say we sit down together and you can draw something ... simple for your teacher, just you and your family, and then maybe your daddy’d like this one?”

  
        He thought that was a pretty good solution, but Sam lowered his eyes and whispered, “No, I drew mom in this one. Dad says never to talk about mom - ” A tear fell down his cheek, followed by another, then worst of all he wiped them away with his sleeve and said, “Sorry.” For about the tenth time since he'd been handed that damn piece of paper, Bobby felt like a dad who wanted to make everything right for his kid. This was no life for John’s boys.

  
        "It's okay, Sammy," said a resigned voice, bringing him straight back to the moment. Dean had gotten up and put an arm around his brother, who sniffed and pressed his face against Dean's shirt. "Here ... " - he sighed, wispering something into Sam's ear, and the little boy nearly gasped with delight. Then he turned and made those puppy dog eyes at Bobby again. Oh, hell. What now?  
        "Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked, “Would you ... like to have my drawing? I want somebody to have it. Please."

  
        He  _literally_  couldn't say no. It was probably for the best; in the end, Sam's teacher got a censored version of Winchester family life, just the boys, their dad and the Impala. Mary almost made it in, only Dean stomped out of the room when Sam started drawing her again, so he settled for a sun coming out from the cloud. Bobby's fridge door got the real deal, and that stick man somehow managed to make him feel  _guilty_  every time he wanted a beer. All the same, he felt kind of lonely when John came back a few days after the whole picture thing, and took Sam and Dean away with him.

  
        Sometimes it wasn't such a hassle, having family of sorts to look after.


End file.
